A/N: I feel like I say this in every a/n recently, but life has been stressing me da fuck out and I've just not been myself for weeks. At all. I'm okay now though. I think. Anyway, here, have some angst.
I do not own Total Drama, all rights reserved to the respective owners.
I stared at the chipping paint in the ceiling above my bed. I had my phone pressed up to my ear with my shoulder as I picked absentmindedly at the dirt under my fingernails. Over the past week I had been scratching at my skin without noticing, leaving streaks of red along the side of my neck and down my arms, and my nails having to be cleaned more frequently than before.
I listened to Bridgette as she tried to break through to me on the other side of the phone. She asked about the several weeks Duncan and I had spent together, that it 'had to come from somewhere'. She dragged the truth out of me the best she could and clung to anything and everything I let slip; the game we had played when he helped me study for that biology test, how I hadn't bothered with going back home from the campground that one night, when he showed up to the banquet with fully black hair and the mohawk combed to the side.
She asked more in depth about why I had ended things and I answered that I had to before things got too serious. "Sounds like it already was", she had quipped back and the comment made my heart tighten.
I quickly changed the subject after that.
But Bridgette came right back to the start again; about Duncan and the party the following night.
"Come on", she pleaded through the phone, "you have to come. You promised."
"Yeah, well, that was before he left."
"You have to help DJ keep an eye on Geoff", she continued as if I hadn't spoken.
"What about you?" I asked and a questioning 'huh' was heard from the other side in response, "Aren't you going to keep an eye on Geoff?"
"Probably not", she chuckled, "I heard Scott would make a punch with his homebrew. Filled with gummy-snakes and marshmallow-eyes."
"Sounds fun", I sighed, my hands dropping to the side of my body as I shifted in the bed.
"Now please come to the party", Bridgette begged again, "For me?"
"For you?" I raised an eyebrow and I could almost feel the giddy energy vibrating off of her through the phone; Bridgette knew she meant the world to me as I knew I meant the world to her and she just wanted to cheer me up. "I don't have a costume."
"So throw on a blazer and some glasses, and voilá, you're a librarian."
"Even if I did go, which I'm not saying I am", I raised a finger in the air as if to stop the comment I knew was on her tongue, even though she couldn't see me, "I don't think I'm ready to see him."
"Court", Bridgette said, her voice suddenly serious, "I know it's hard and that it hurts, but you can't let yourself wallow in it. So you get your butt out of that house, come have a drink with your friends and don't let Duncan ruin your fun."
I knew she was right. I had been unconsciously denying myself even the tiniest sparks of joy; I felt guilty, but too stubborn to even admit it to myself, so I deprived myself, instead, of any emotions other than the hurt and the guilt. So I said screw Duncan; I would have fun whether he showed up or not.
It had taken me most of the next day to find the right outfit; I was not going to half-ass it. I was going to party with my friends like there was no tomorrow and I was going to look damn good doing it, but nothing felt quite right. Not until I found a short, black dress in the back of my closet, the tag still hanging from its neck, with layers upon layers of fringes. I couldn't for the life of me remember why I'd bought it, but once I found it everything else fell into place; flapper.
My hair was curled just right, completed with a headband decorated with pearls and feathers of course, my lips painted a perfect red and my arms covered in comfortable silk gloves.
I had texted DJ after the talk with Bridgette, telling him I changed my mind and to pick me up before the party, so even if I let the nerves get the better of me and wanted to back out I couldn't.
"Wow", I heard Bridgette whistle as I neared the car, "You're the hottest librarian I've ever seen." The windows had been rolled down and she was leaning out of it excitingly, her laughter filling the otherwise quiet night. The visor cap on her head was slightly tilted and as I saw Geoff's lovestruck face behind her I had a pretty good guess as to why.
"Really?" I laughed with her and gave her a twirl, the fringes of the dress flaring out as I spun.
"What made you change your mind?" She asked as I climbed into the passenger seat next to DJ.
"We're reading The Great Gatsby in English class", I shrugged and DJ eyed me with a smile as he drove away from my house.
"Can't thank you enough for saving me", he joked, nodding his head towards the rear-view mirror when he continued, "those two haven't been able to keep their hands off of each other since I picked them up."
"Do they ever?" I laughed, shaking my head at the loving couple, Bridgette only responding with a ditzy smile.
The street surrounding Heather's house was chock-full of vehicles, cars, motorcycles and even regular bikes pouring down the block in a way that made me amazed no one had called the police yet. Someone please call the police, I caught myself thinking, dreading the people inside, my stomach clenching as I spotted one particularly familiar motorcycle parked lazily on the grass.
We were greeted by the door with jello shots, the candy dessert masking the taste of liquor enough to make it enjoyable. My eyes searched the rooms visible from the foyer nervously, but when the only things I saw were a ring of people playing 'Never have I ever', couples dragging each other up the stairs while other made out on the couches and what looked like a beer pong tournament, my body relaxed and I followed Bridgette into the livingroom.
She clung to Geoff's arm and greeted some of his friends happily. DJ came up behind me, handing me a drink, as I watched them yell to each other in an effort to be heard over the blaring music.
"She really loves him", I pointed out, leaning my head back so DJ would hear me. The type of people Geoff knew outside of our friend group were ones he had met at other parties and one even while in the drunk tank; it was a varying mix of school athletes and art students. Bridgette, on the other hand, would find friends in the animal shelter, ones that cared about any and all life equally; not the partying type at all. Yet there she stood, a big smile on her face as she leaned into her boyfriend's side, as they all hooted and cheered, clinking their cups together, beer spilling over the edges from the force. Their love was genuine, pure. It made my heart ache.
"I'm going to go - get, uh, some more to drink", I said, the excuse nothing short of pathetic as I had barely sipped at the beer DJ'd brought me. I pretended not to see the creases in his forehead and the anxious-mixed-confusion in his eyes.
The house was like a maze; it wasn't that much bigger than my own, but the seemingly endless corridors were riddled with identical decors and doors only leading to broom closets and bedrooms, turning multiple corners and crossing paths with one another. I finally made it out, however, into the cool October night, and took a deep breath. I had downed the beer during the little involuntary exploration and was left standing with an empty cup; not that I minded it all that much. Beer was never my go to drink, or even in my top five.
"You want a refill of that?" I had never seen the guy before - or maybe I had, it was hard to tell under the pale makeup and fake blood dripping from the corner of his mouth -, though his eyes squinted in a familiar way and I could've sworn I had seen the upturn of his nose before. "Name's Adam", he said as he saw the wheels in my head turn, trying to pinpoint where I knew him from. He held out his hand and I shook it cautiously.
"Courtney", I introduced myself.
"So how about that refill?" A smirk made its way across his face. The sight hit me hard, forcing me to look away.
"That's not really -" But he had already taken the plastic cup out of my hand and walked over to the table outside; it was full of bottles in different sizes and shapes, the liquids in them varying in colors, some I even recognised as regular soda. Behind one of the legs stood a keg. Cliché much?
"Pick your poison", Adam offered, waving his hand in front of the table to show off the different options it provided.
"Beer's fine", I said quietly, worrying my lower lip as my eyes wandered around the yard without permission.
"Nonsense", he discarded, picking up a bottle of red liquor and studying it with a ridiculous amount of intensity, "a pretty lady like you deserves a pretty drink." He put down the bottle and smiled at me, before returning his attention to another bottle of booze.
I crossed my arms, rubbing the goosebumped skin in an attempt to heat up at least a little. The clouds laid thick across the sky, the moonlight barely breaking through, and the air felt moist, almost suffocatingly so. It was a clear sign of snow. It surprised me it hadn't snowed already, the past weeks had only gotten colder and especially the last couple of days.
"Here you go", Adam said and extended the cup back to me, efficiently snapping me out of my thoughts. I took the drink with a small smile, a quiet 'thank you' slipping from my lips. I sipped it carefully, feeling his expectant gaze on me as I did. It was sweet. Not like the jello shots from before, but rather like berries. "You like?"
"Yeah", I nodded, my smile growing wider as the warmth of the alcohol made its way down my throat. A kid poorly wrapped in toilet paper stumbled between us, almost falling on top of the table as he hit his thighs at its edge, but Adam just stepped to the side and lead me away from the drunk teenager by my wrist.
"So how you like the party?" He leaned up against the house's facade, his fingers still lightly wrapped around my wrist. The touch made my gaze drop and he quickly let go as I simply stared at his hand; he looked embarrassed, like he had forgotten to let go. I shrugged my shoulders in answer, taking another sip from my drink as my eyes wandered over the yard once more.
"You looking for someone?"
"Oh", I swallowed, wiping away the excess at the corners of my mouth with my glove, "No."
"I wouldn't be of much help anyway, i don't know even half of the people here", Adam chuckled.
"Then why are you here?" Not that I was any better, really. The people I actually knew by name were few, the ones I tolerated to talk to even fewer.
"Don't have much of a choice when its my house", he shrugged.
"Oh, you're Heather's... oh-" That's why I recognised him; he was the spitting image of his father, only twenty or so years younger.
"I take it you know my sister."
"Unfortunately", I murmured, the alcohol already starting to break down my restraints, causing the word to escape my mouth before I could stop it.
"Yeah, she can be a bit of a handful."
"You're telling me", I snickered, though quickly pressed my lips together, afraid he had taken the 'not-actually-a-joke" joke seriously. But he just smiled and chuckled, making the droplets of fake blood hanging from his lips sneak their way down his chin.
"There you are, Court", Bridgette called, her arm still hooked through Geoff's, dragging him along with her as she walked over to where Adam and I stood. Her hair was ruffled and her visor cap missing and the ditzy smile on her face said it all. "Come join the party, it's so cold out here", she whined.
"Fine", I said with a smile contradicting the rolling of my eyes, "Guess I'll see you around." I waved goodbye to Adam as Bridgette dragged me back inside.
The music seemed even louder than before, if that was possible, and the furniture in the livingroom had been pushed to the walls, making room for a dancefloor. The drinking games had significantly lessened, they were only a way of letting people let loose and now that they were drunk the games had lost most of their meaning.
I stood to the side, sipping on the drink Adam had made me, smiling reassuringly at Bridgette whenever she looked my way from the dancefloor. She had tied the ends of the hawaiian shirt together, exposing her midriff, and danced closely to Geoff whose shirt hung open across his chest. Party Bridgette was so different from Everyday Bridgette and watching her laugh in a way I couldn't remember ever laughing, I started to wonder if I even had a party side. Maybe with the right people - the right person.
The latest song faded out just as I downed the last of my drink and I took the opportunity of the musical silence to excuse myself again. Needing desperately to get the happy couple out of my sight and the spinning thoughts of Duncan out of my head.
I swiftly replaced my cup with a full one and started down the corridor I remembered led to a bathroom. As I swung the door open I was met by the sight of two girls sitting on the floor, one hung over the toilet and the other smoothing down her hair. She glared at me and spat at me to get out. The girl who hung over the toilet tried to catch a glimpse of me but was forcefully interrupted by a hurl, her whole body crouching in on itself.
"Sorry", I managed to get out and closed the door behind me to instead make my way up the stairs, hoping to god this extravagant house had more than one bathroom.
Behind the first door I stumbled across upstairs came sounds I knew well; the creaking of a bed and the raspy calls of names. Sounds that only tightened the knot in the pit of my stomach.
The second door led to another bedroom, though one occupied by a crying girl rather than an intimate couple. She looked at me with swollen eyes and tears staining her cheeks, even in the darkness of the unlit room I could see how smudged her makeup had become. I knew that she probably wanted nothing more than to be left alone, I knew that's what I wanted, but some part of me deep down jumped at the opportunity to share our misery, to cry together and not feel lonely.
"Do you", I started, lingering in the doorway, "are you okay?"
"Yes", she hiccupped, not taking her bloodshot eyes away from me.
"I can-I can stay if you need someone", I said and reached out my still untouched drink to her. She shook her head before burying it between her knees. I stayed at the doorway for another few seconds, retracting my extended hand, until she looked up at me again.
"Get out", she yelled angrily, like she had said it to me a thousand times already, and I closed the door quickly as she kept yelling at me. The music wasn't as loud upstairs, the walls and floors absorbing most of the vocals and instruments, leaving only the bass, allowing me to hear the girl's sobs even through the wooden door.
My hand lingered on the door handle, silently debating with myself whether or not to ignore her demand of being left alone; you say the stupidest things while upset, turning down the help offered even though you need it. But before I could decide, another sound drew my attention down the hallway. Not sobbing, no, more like a breathless pleading.
The door from where these new sounds came stood ajar and the alcohol that flowed freely in my body inhibited logical thinking, making me inch closer until I could see the dark hair falling down the girl's shoulders like a waterfall. She was on her knees, her back to me, running her hands up and down the legs of a guy I couldn't see other than his torn jeans.
"I'll make you feel good", she whispered seductively, slurring slightly as she spoke. He didn't answer - at least not verbally - and neither of them moved. No buttons came undone and no hands wandered out of sight.
"I want you", the girl on the floor coaxed, spreading her fingers out on his thighs, her nails digging into the fabric slightly, "I know you want me too."
"Heather", the guy spoke quietly, warningly, and an involuntary squeel left my mouth before I quickly shuffled down the hallway towards the next door, hoping to God they hadn't heard, but knowing in my head that they had.
"Courtney?" I froze as Duncan called out my name in surprise and, what sounded like, relief. Hearing my name roll of his tongue hurt. He wasn't supposed to call me Courtney, not when it was just the two of us, not with that tone. But what hurt more was realizing where he had emerged from. My eyes stung with betrayal and I couldn't bare myself to turn around and face him. "It's not-"
"Save it", I snapped, shutting him up momentarily. Each of his steps on the wooden floor made my head pulsate and my breath hitch.
"I didn't think you would come." He stood directly behind me now, I could feel the heat radiating from his body and the smell of lavender crept its way up my nose.
"I shouldn't have."
"Look at me." It wasn't a command, it was more like the plea from a withering flower begging to be watered.
I shook my head no, biting my lower lip hard and squeezing my eyes shut tight.
Duncan walked around me then, his scent dancing around my body as he moved. "Courtney", he tried again, softly caressing my cheek with the back of his hand.
"Don't." My eyes snapped open and I slapped his hand away, the sound of skin hitting skin echoed through the hallway and I didn't care that it probably stung; he deserved it. "Heather's waiting for you." My face was cold, my voice more monotone than a machines', but my gaze burnt of anger.
He didn't follow as I turned around and retreated down the stairs. I wish he had followed.
For the rest of the night I drank until I couldn't remember my own name and I had to focus hard to even see straight, until I couldn't distinguish the memories from dreams - and nightmares - and until my heart stopped aching and the contents off my stomach was splattered across the white porcelain of a bathtub.
But no matter how horribly drunk I got, his face haunted me every time I closed my eyes and his voice echoed through my skull.
I used the bodies of people nearby to move against in an attempt to replace the memories, the feel, of his body on mine, dancing on the floor and on top of a table until the room spun and everyone cheered me on.
I don't know if he tried to talk to me, I couldn't remember, I didn't want to remember. But as the time passed and I, after hours of belting out along to the music flowing through the speakers, stumbled my way home in the early morning hours, I felt my chest tighten and my lungs collapse with air deprivation as the first snowflakes of the year tumbled down from the greyish pink sky.
My bed felt empty that night. My body felt empty; the only content the aching in my stomach.
I couldn't decide who I was angrier with; him, her or myself. Not until I heard the morning birds tweet outside my window and I realised it was him. At how he made me feel.
I ignored the alarm clock as it rang out loud enough to make my head pound, not possessing the energy to even be bothered by the shrieking sound.
I missed him.
I loathed him.
I needed him.
I wanted to punch his stupid face.
I wanted to kiss his soft lips.